“Rules?”
Magnus fought off my attack, but I hurled a second one at him. The exhaustion of before was no longer a factor when faced with the likes of him.
Frost and ice and storm and fury seemed to rage within me. “You’ve killed so many. Made life awful for most. Youdestroyedmy family.”
I stalked closer as he fended off attack after attack. “Don’t mistake my earlier hesitation to try and end your life as anything other than care for my sister. Because I do not give a gryphon’s shit about combat etiquette, Magnus.”
Winter magic pulsed from me, so deep and frigid that I thought he would not be able to fend it off. The king went still, and victory sang inside me before he broke my hold and retaliated in kind. Not before a dagger left my hand though.
Ice covered my skin, threatening to shred through to my deeper tissues. I struggled against his delving power as my dagger hit its mark, sinking into Magnus’s shoulder.
He bellowed, and I fought frantically to break through the ice coating me. Burning my skin.
I failed once. Twice. Three times. Blood pounded in my ears as panic rose. I might have more raw winter magic than the king, but he had many turns on me. He’d experimented and used his power in ways that I could only dream of. He was better used to fighting through pain.
He yanked the dagger from his shoulder. Blood gushed from the wound with each step he took towards me, the weapon raised.
He sneered. “If you can’t break my hold, you don’t deserve the throne.” The dagger pressed against my throat. “And why have I not seen your shadows?”
I did my best to snarl, but it came out as little more than a whimper.
Magnus chuckled softly. “You have the magic, but can’t use it? Is that the issue? Well, Érebo will not be so disappointed that he missed out on watching you die then. If you’re that weak, why would he waste his time?”
Seriously though, where was the Shadow King? And Rhistel?
“Worried about them, are you?” King Magnus dropped his voice to imitate concern. As if he was capable of such anemotion. “They’re safe. As are a good number of our allies. Not that you’ll ever see them again.” The metal pressed harder into my throat, cracking the ice covering me.
“I would ask if you had any last words, Isolde, but the truth is, I’ve heard enough from you—” the king sucked in a breath and suddenly, his magical grip on me loosened.
“Get away from my sister, you bastard,” Thyra growled, suspended in the air, wings fluttering to keep her in place as blood poured from her leg and shoulder. With her non-dominant hand, she palmed her dagger and struck, sinking the blade into the king’s chest and pulling it out viciously.
He stumbled back, but instead of his hand going to his chest, it circled his throat. He wheezed.
I broke through his hold and though I felt as though a troll had nearly crushed me, I wasted no time in reaching for my sword. “What’s going on?”
“Frozen windpipe. Like when you froze that one thug’s arm.” Thyra shrugged. “I could only muster so much power. Figured I’d better make it count.”
I laughed. “Together?”
“Together.”
We closed in as Magnus’s gasps became louder, more urgent, and when we came to a stop before him, I couldn’t help but smile coldly at the fae I despised.
“Perhaps we’ll see you in the afterlife, but I think not.” Thyra pressed her sword to his chest, and I added mine, right next to hers. “Just know, you deserve this end.”
“He deserves worse,” I repeated the words he’d spoken to me. “I would ask if you had any last words, Magnus, but the truth is, I’ve heard enough from you.”
We thrust our swords into the king’s chest, and I knew when Thyra released her grip on his throat because he gave two moreshuddering breaths, the last he’d ever have, before slumping over our swords.
I planted my foot on his stomach and kicked his body off Sassa’s Blade.
Chapter 57
ISOLDE
Word of the king’s death spread like an uncontrollable wildfire, and the mages and Aaberg loyalists who remained surrendered in quick order. In truth, there were very few left to wave the flag of surrender, anyway.
A large number were gone to the afterworld, and the smell of death seemed to cling to every wooden deck.
